"Welcome to Hard Liquor. A club mixed with a bit of intellect," Harry whispered on the crook of my neck, fanning the whisk of his warm breath on the most sensitive part of my skin. His sharp smirk gleamed prominently as blood trickled down his cheek...
I chewed softly on my lower lip in curiosity for a good book, hugging the steel blue flannel I loosely had on. With this, I scrolled my eyes through hundreds of sideways titles with my fingers carelessly trailing on the spines of perfectly imperfect books stacked clumsily together.
The soft, faint touch of the covers brushing my skin felt relaxing as my ears picked up the chaotic sloppy rain droplets pounding the ground outside. With the muffled sound of rain calming me further in this bookstore, my curious mind grew hungrier for a good story.
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I always found myself in a bookstore at least two times a week, whether the creepiest, rundown type or the newest, squeaky cleanest of them all. I practically visited all of New York's best at this point.
But this particular bookstore, that I was currently standing in right now, was the strangest and yet the most comforting of them all with its interior design being old-fashioned. This gave me the impression that this bookstore had been here for a long time.
The only con of this place was that it was located on Crowlair Street, a very isolated and eerie part of New York. Not many people around here and just empty streets.
The books in the store had a sweet, musky smell, and if I sniffed hard enough, I could catch a hint of vanilla lingering within.
One book caught my eye with its title being Sign of The Times. The book was of the transitioning colors of a sunrise with earthy hues on the borders, resembling something natural and earthly.
I took a moment to admire the small precise details of gold flakes around the border, yet another beautiful design that I couldn't stop admiring. I stared some time at the spine of the book on its shelf, before taking it upon myself to reach over and grab the book. Opening the book to the freshness of pages, each gentle to my fingertips, I immediately felt engaged reading the first couple of words.
"Just stop your crying, it's the sign of the times."
My fingers grazed inquisitively on those very words. It was just a dialogue on the first page, and yet the simplicity of a sentence already piqued every interest in me. Even so, I furrowed my eyebrows determined to understand this book. Squinting my eyes, I smiled softly, knowing I had just found another one of my travesty drugs.
Taking in every aspect of this book hooked my every sense, I could quite literally start diving into the wonders of the story.
"Excuse me?"
I snapped my eyes at the stranger, slight adrenaline rushing through me, but it quickly died down when I realized it was just the bookkeeper checking in on me.
